The Fullmetal Wizard: The Chamber of Secrets
by Shara Raizel
Summary: He's spent a year in the world of magic and wizards and muggles now. Join Edward as he continues to teach alchemy at Hogwarts, searching for a way home to Amestris. But will he be able to continue when a new threat appears at the school targeting muggle-borns?


So here we have it! The start of the long awaited sequel to the FullMetal Wizard: The Philosopher's Stone. I hope you guys enjoy reading this and look forward for what is to come. Again, like with the first fic, this will follow the book with some bits from the movie. I know you've all waited a whole year for this, so I hope that it doesn't disappoint. Enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 1: Hohenheim<p>

Edward found himself taking early morning walks through the German countryside daily, enjoying the rolling hills, fresh air, and panoramic mountain views that could be seen everywhere in the low valley where the Flamels had their vacation home. He felt at peace during these times. So much so, in fact, that for a while on these walks he could pretend that he was back home in Resembool, and that the town was just out of sight beyond the next hill.

He'd finally taken the vacation that the staff at Hogwarts had offered him. When he'd first arrived in Germany at the Flamel's home via Floo powder – now _that_ had been an interesting experience – Perenelle had been a lovely host and showed him around the house and out to the local village, recommending other towns and villages he might like to visit – wizard and muggle alike.

He'd done a bit of the typical tourist experience and visited Berlin and Stuttgart and a couple other muggle cities and towns before investigating the wizarding world half of the country. It was funny, really how at home he felt. Muggle cities and especially the smaller towns reminded him so much of Amestris that it made him feel both at home, and miss home even more. The wizarding world half reminded him just how far away from home he really was, but it was nice to explore his surroundings and learn a little more about the wizarding culture.

When he wasn't exploring the country, he stayed in with the Flamels and helped around the house when he could – at least, whenever Perenelle actually allowed him to help. They were all waiting for Hohenheim, hoping he'd join them all in time for the summer solstice. The local wizarding town liked to hold a bonfire on the valley lakeshore and celebrate the holiday with plenty of dance, food and alcohol – typically with good nettle wine. A traditional wedding or two were typically held during the solstice and the preparations for the celebrations this year were in full swing already as they were only a couple days away by this time.

Edward was just finishing his walk that morning when we saw a stooped figure sitting on top of the hill between him and the Flamel house. He didn't realize who it was until he was mere meters away.

"…It's about time you showed up," he grunted, coming to stand next to the figure. "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever make it."

"Hello, Edward," Van Hohenheim said softly. "It's been a long time. You've grown since I last saw you."

Edward squinted, trying to see under the hood of his father's battered and worn traveling cloak. He was old. Hohenheim actually looked old. That was a surprise… and yet it wasn't. The old man had not moved on and taken a new body, as he'd said he wouldn't after he met and fell in love with Edward's mother.

"Are you dying, too?" Edward asked with a sigh, plopping down on the grassy knoll to join his father.

"Maybe," Hohenheim nodded. "I never took any of the Stone's elixir and my immortality was taken from me when I passed through the gate this time. Time is finally catching up to me. How I've even managed to continue living this long I'm not sure, but I'd hoped to see you and Alphonse one last time before the end…"

Edward swallowed, not knowing how to feel. He'd spent most of his life hating this bastard but now… now he was actually sad to learn that he could be dying.

"…I'm teaching alchemy at Hogwarts," he blurted.

"Really?" Hohenheim smiled.

"Yeah… And I'm using one of your books on alchemy to teach them," Edward continued. "Everything else in this world on the subject is either complete rubbish or a knock off of what you've written under the name of Dr. Licht."

Hohenheim chuckled. "Is that so? How are the classes going?" he asked, curious.

And so Edward spent the rest of his morning telling his father about the past year; about the students he taught, his fellow staff members, his adventures with Harry Potter and Severus Snape, and about how angry he'd been about what had happened because of Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. And when he was finished talking about all of that, he told Hohenheim what he'd missed back home in Amestris and how the battle with the homunculi had gone and how he'd ended up waking in this world and time until he couldn't think of anything else to talk about. And Hohenheim just kept smiling, listening to him talk and asked questions here or there if he wanted to know more about something.

It felt so surreal to have an actual conversation that didn't involve him shouting at the man. And for the first time since he was a little kid… since before Hohenheim had left, he felt a connection to the man he'd once called Father… Dad… Daddy. Maybe it was the peace of the German countryside, or the fact that he'd grown up a bit more and better understood his father and why things had been the way they were and are… For once, he didn't hate Hohenheim. For once, they were at peace and not at odds. Edward found himself reluctant to ask what he wanted to know now.

"…How long?"

"Until I die?"

Edward nodded, glad his father understood without needing to hear the words.

"Oh… a bit longer than Nicolas and Perenelle I think," Hohenheim mused. "Could be months… could be years before I finally die. I'm bound by mortal constraints now. It's funny, actually growing old. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience that. I figure I'm about 93 give or take a few years. The average healthy wizard lives to be 118 typically."

"Is that how old Dumbledore is?" Edward could help but ask, smirking as he thought of the wizen old headmaster who'd hired him.

"He's actually 154," Hohenheim chuckled.

"Ah," Edward snorted. He felt strangely relieved to hear that his father wasn't going to kick the bucket just yet. "Then you'll probably be around for a few more decades then."

"Perhaps," Hohenheim chuckled.

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><p>Edward had one of the best days he'd had in a long time. Like the conversation he'd had with his father that morning, it continued to feel surreal having what could be considered a nice afternoon and evening with his father and the Flamels. There was a lot of chatting, catching up, good food, drink, and games. Dumbledore even made a surprise visit, saying he'd be with them until after the Solstice. Being with all these old people, though, and being with his father again, made him feel like a little kid and he really began to miss his little brother, Alphonse.<p>

Alphonse had always wanted to seek out and reconnect with Hohenheim. And yet it was Edward who was reacquainting himself with their father and getting that second chance his brother had wanted and may never have. Of course some things about Hohenheim still pissed him off like his passive attitude and the way he sometimes said things – he'd tried not to growl too much and start an angry rant when they all started talking about the Philosopher's Stone; but Edward was too happy being with someone from his old world and his old life again after living in this new world without a familiar face for a year. He made an effort to try to ignore the things that normally set him off when it came to his father. Alphonse would have wanted them to get along. And, honestly, when he wasn't trying to find flaw and hate the man… Edward found that they were more alike than he was comfortable admitting. And maybe that was the problem. They were too alike for their own good.

When the day of the Solstice was upon them they all headed over to the local village that afternoon. Edward took in the sight of ribbons and streamers decorating the main street, children running about playing games and adults walking about chatting amiably as they shopped at all the stores holding sales and some of the special booths vendors had out selling all sorts of goodies for the holiday – things from baked goods to sparklers and fireworks, chairs, ribbons, poppers, and all sorts of festive treats and things Edward didn't know what they did or even were, to use at the bonfire that night. Musicians played in the streets with dancers flitting about for the spectators' entertainment. A puppet master had a stand and was performing plays for little children. They'd all stopped to watch a few. Edward wasn't familiar with this world's fairytales but according to Perenelle, he was telling a collection of muggle fairytales and wizard ones.

Edward stuck close to Perenelle in the market and watched her buy a few trinkets and baked goods from some of the street vendors. She gave Edward something called a blueberry crepe. It was delicious and apparently a muggle confection that had become popular in the wizarding world.

Dumbledore found a vendor selling festive wooly socks and other woolen items and bought three pairs. Edward caught Hohenheim's eye. His father rolled his eyes, made a face at the old headmaster's taste in apparel and shrugged his shoulders. They shared a smile and Edward tried his best not to snicker. He was going to have to remember to get Dumbledore socks for Christmas this year. The tackier the better it seemed. Maybe he'd find some in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

As the day stretched on and the sun finally began to sink, people started heading towards the lake. Edward could see where a wedding was taking place off on a nearby hill, and watched as people started setting up the reception area in a corner of the cleared space down at the lake that had been set up for the bonfire. A humongous dance floor was magiced into existence in the center along the lake and before the bonfire pit. As the sunlight dimmed, orbs were magiced into the air, with flickering mini fires burning inside. Rows of tables and full round barrels of wine and beer lined the outskirts of the space and a great many tables meant to host the entire village – and then some, were scattered all around the lake.

Just as the last traces of the sun was going down behind the mountains the wedding ended and their party came down to join the village in time to light the bonfire. It ignited with a loud _WHOOSH! _Then the local band began to play, toasts were made to the newly married couple and dancers swarmed the dance floor and hungry villagers flocked to the buffet tables. Edward and his elderly company were part of the later. Nickolas paid for their group and Edward piled his plate high with everything that looked appetizing.

"Still a growing boy," Hohenheim chuckled.

"Shut it, grandpa," Edward muttered around a bread roll as they headed off to find a table to sit at, ignoring his father's more modest and smaller serving.

"The food isn't going anywhere, Edward," Nickolas laughed when he saw Edward's plate.

"Oh hush," Perenelle said, slapping her husband lightly on the shoulder. "The boy's still growing. You yourself had a voracious appetite at his age."

Dumbledore and Hohenheim chuckled.

Edward ignored them, digging into his meal, trying and savoring everything, and mentally catalogued which foods he liked and wanted seconds of, and those he didn't care for and would avoid later.

Once the sky was black with the moon out and was full of stars, an old wizen wizard in grey robes announced the start of the fireworks display. Minutes later the night was ablaze with fireworks the likes of which Edward had never seen before.

"Magic is amazing," Edward thought to himself as he watched a huge said-to-be-life-size dragon firework take to the heavens and set the sky alight with multi colored sparks and flares it shot at firework knights and wizards, painting an epic moving picture in the air.

Once the fireworks were done with, all the younger families with little children headed home and more alcohol was brought out. Dancing resumed and drunken antics began. Edward watched the various villagers mill about, some in drunken fun and others in dancing frenzy. He noticed a gaggle of young witches between the ages of 18 and 22 watching the dancers, and a group of young wizard lads around the same age range watching them, some elbowing and nudging each other, encouraging their friends to ask one of the ladies to dance. Edward found this amusing, seeing some men make it halfway to the girls, only to turn and hurry back to his fellows when the girls spotted him. Of those brave enough to actually go up to the girls and ask for a dance or ten, most usually left for the dance floor with the lady of his fancy. Some got shot down by their wanted dance partner, but their offer was always taken by another of the girls.

Edward noticed that most if not all of those later lads had tried to ask a rather fetching looking blonde girl with bright blue eyes and a heart shaped face with full pouty lips. She was the loveliest lady among her friends, though it wasn't because they weren't beautiful. Most of the girls had plenty of the right kind of curves boys tended to ogle at, lean fit bodies, and fair hair and complexions. Most were actually taller and more willowy that the other girl. There was just something more that set this particular young woman apart from the others. Edward just couldn't put his finger on it. At a simple glance she looked no different from the other beauties, but on any following glance your eye was always drawn to her for some reason.

"That's Anja," Perenelle said, making him jump.

He hadn't realized that he'd been staring at the girl.

"She's the village's treasure, or so all the young lads say," the old woman grinned.

"Her mother is half Vila, so she has a certain… lure, that the others young maids don't," Nikolas added.

"Why don't you ask her to dance?" Hohenheim suggested.

Edward narrowed his eyes at his father. "No thanks."

"Oh, go on, Edward," Dumbledore said. "You don't need to sit with us old codgers all night. You are young. Go! Have fun! Act like the teenager you are and ask one of those lovely ladies for a dance."

"I feel like I've just been banished," Edward muttered, getting up from their table. But rather than join the foolish young men around his age, he headed to the tables serving alcohol and ordered a beer.

For the heck of it – and because his nuisance of a father and nosy Dumbledore were still watching him – he started up a conversation with one of the lads at the bar. He turned out to be the best man and the groom's eldest brother from the wedding party. They spoke about this and that. Well, it was mainly the other man that did the talking and Edward the listening, both of them people watching – mostly the group of boys and girls on the opposite end of the dance floor.

The man's name was Henrik, and he knew everyone from the village it seemed, able to name everyone they were watching. It was kind of funny to get a running commentary on Gregory's many attempts to ask the lovely Anja out, Nathan's secret crush of Jenifer even though he always asked Gina to dance instead, how his sister Merida's attempts to attract Peter's attention seem to have finally won her a dance with him with hopes of dating come the following days, ect.

While Henrik was telling Edward about Erik's latest of many hilarious and unorthodox attempts to woo Anja, a commotion started over by the group of girls still waiting to be asked to dance. An older looking man in perhaps his late twenties had approached Anja and was demanding that she dance with him. They were attracting more attention from those in the immediate area.

"Get lost, Manny," Anja said crossly, her high voice sounding melodic.

"Great," Henrik groaned. "Just great. Manson is drunk again. Normally he's a quiet kind of guy, but he'd been hitting the booze more and more lately."

"Village idiot?" Edward asked, eyebrow rising as Manson tried again to convince Anja to dance with him.

"Something like that," Henrik muttered. "More like the village tough guy. He's muggle born and though we've never held it against him, he feels the need to prove he's tough and as capable as any one of us magic born. Guy's a sad story. Usually nice and easy to get along with but once he hits the bottle…"

"You pity him," Edward said softly.

"Hey!"

Edward and Henrik rose from their seats and hurried over to the growing conflict meters away. Manson had grabbed Anja by the arm and was trying to drag her off with him.

"Let go! Manny! Manson! Let me go!"

Manson was bigger and a lot taller than the young woman, so her struggles had little to no effect on him.

"Hey! Manny!" Henrik said, getting in front of the guy. "Take it easy, buddy! She's not in the mood to dance okay? Why don't we lay off the vodka and get you home, okay?"

Manson's response was to shove Henrik out of his way, sending the poor guy tripping backwards and over a nearby table. The couple sitting at that table cried out in alarm, backing away at first before rushing to Henrik's aid.

"Bad move, pal," Edward said, getting in front of the guy. Bastard was easily a head taller than Edward.

"Get out of my way, shrimp," Manson huffed, moving to shove Edward aside as easily has he had Henrik, but Edward was waiting for it.

Edward grabbed Manson's wrist allowing the bigger guy's momentum to carry him forward and compromise his footing. Edward sent him sprawling, the surprise making the big guy let Anja go as he tried to brace himself as he fell to his knees. Anja quickly hurried back and out of reach. Manson was really angry now. When he regained his feet he took a swing at Edward, many of the people near by crying out in alarm at the violence, giving them a wide berth. Edward easily deflected the blow again, body tense and loose at the same time as he fell into a fighter's crouch and fought back, ticked off at being called a shrimp. He didn't take it easy on the drunk, knocking his sorry ass back and into one of the chairs after trading a series of blows. Manson wasn't a bad fighter, even when drunk, but he didn't have the experience Edward did, and it showed.

Being quick he clapped his hands together and transmuted the chair and some of the ground so that it would hold him. Manson struggled, yelling and shouting curses at Edward until Henrik came up from behind and doused the guy with a barrel full of lake water. That seemed to sober the guy up a bit. Once he cooled down, Edward released him and Henrik and some of his friends took Manson home. After a while the festivities resumed, though many looked at Edward whenever they passed by him.

Edward himself grumbled a bit once the drama was over and returned to where he and Henrik had been drinking, the man tending the bar giving him a fresh cold beer when he sat down. Edward nodded to him in thanks. He hadn't even taken one sip before someone spoke to him, though.

"Thank you."

Edward looked up and saw Anja, for once without company.

"It was nothing," Edward shrugged. "Would have done the same to any other wise ass making trouble."

"Regardless, thank you. Those were some impressive moves," Anja said, taking Henrik's seat across from him. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nope," Edward said, taking another sip of his beer. "Not from anywhere really."

"Are you a traveler?"

"Something like that."

"So young?"

Edward shrugged.

"…Would you care to dance?"

Edward's tankard stopped halfway up to his lips. This girl had been turning boys down left and right all night. Why ask _him_ of all people to dance?

"…I'm not much of a dancer," he said, taking another sip of his beer to hide a blush.

"Somehow I doubt that," Anja smiled. "Come on. Just one?"

It was hard to say no to someone that beautiful, especially when she fluttered her eyelashes at him. He downed the rest of his beer and with a sigh, rose to his feet and allowed her to drag him onto the dance floor. He felt awkward and as if he had two left feet for a moment before getting the hand of dancing to the music's beat. Anja was a great dancer and teacher, helping him through the steps. After one dance Anja somehow talked him into another, and then three more, and before he knew it, he and Anja were dancing with a group participating in this old traditional kind of formal dance, Anja and her friends, whispering instructions to him as they went, trading partners and twirling and stamping their feet to the beat. Maybe it was the beer, but Edward found himself having a grand old time, grinning like a fool, dancing and laughing and swaying, as the night became early morning.

He finally managed to bow out of anymore dancing and excused himself from Anja's company. She seemed disappointed to have lost his company, but after Edward said that he'd see her around, she smiled and waved him off. When he returned to the table he'd left his father, the Flamels and Dumbledore at, only Hohenheim remained.

"Had fun, son?"

"You look more like my grandfather these days than my Dad, you know," Edward sighed, taking a seat. Oww… his foot hurt and his flesh port ached.

Hohenheim chuckled. "Dumbledore has returned to London," he reported, "and Nickolas and Perenelle retired hours ago, shortly after your little scuffle with Manson."

Edward nodded, figuring as much.

"You didn't have to wait up for me, you know," he sighed. "I'm eighteen now, have grown up living and traveling without adult supervision for ages, and I know my way back to the cottage."

Hohenheim sighed. "I know, Edward. I didn't stay here to keep an eye on you. I was here because I was happy and content to see you have fun. Back in Amestris you were always so serious; more adult than the child you should have been and for that I will always be sorry. Sorry that I wasn't there even though I wanted to be with you boys and your mother. I stayed away to protect you from Dante, but you got involved anyway."

Edward grit his teeth. He didn't want to start a fight with Hohenheim. They'd been getting alone just fine the last couple of days. And the words he wanted to say were words that had already been said anyway.

"You're looking for a way back, are you not, my son?" Hohenheim asked. "A way back to Amestris?"

Edward looked over at his father, eyes narrowing.

"Dumbledore told me," Hohenheim explained. "He asked if I knew of a way back through the gate."

"…And?" Edward prompted when his father didn't continue.

"None that I have found," Hohenheim said softly, gazing at the bonfire. "And I have spent decades trying to see if it were possible to return to Amestris. Maybe not as actively as I could have been, but any possible lead that popped up I pursued and met only dead ends. The gate was not meant to be opened from this side. Alchemy is weaker here, if you haven't yet noticed. It didn't really exist in a sense before I came along and stumbled upon the hidden world of magic. Very few wizards have been able to tap into and fully utilize the full potential that alchemy has to offer. It takes a great Alchemist to do so."

Edward nodded, his spirits sinking. If Hohenheim hadn't found a way…

"But," his father said, suddenly smiling at him. "I am old, Edward. I am not the powerful alchemist I used to be. Have not been since I face Dante that last time and wound up here. But you, Edward… You are young and strong, and are becoming a greater man than I ever was. I saw you use alchemy to restrain Manson. Your abilities have remained in tact even though you came through Truth's gate twice. If anyone can find a way back to Amestris… it is you, son."

Edward stared. He was… touched. Conflicted, but touched. His father might as well have said that he was destined for great things.

"Nickolas has written up a new will," Hohenheim told him, suddenly changing the subject. "He and his wife, Perenelle are leaving everything they have to you. Their fortune, their houses, Nickolas' research, the works."

"WHAT?!" Edward gasped. "Why? I mean – we hardly know each other! We're practically strangers."

"Because you are the alchemist of the future," Hohenheim smiled. "The Flamels have no living descendants. Their last great grandchild was killed in the last wizard war against Voldemort and they were already old when Nickolas finally succeeded in creating his first Philosopher's Stone. The Stone can help you live forever, but even it cannot save its possessor from fatal wounds or the Killing Curse. It merely stops the aging process. But even though the body begins to wear down."

"That's why you and Dante changed bodies every thousand years or so," Edward muttered.

Hohenheim nodded solemnly.

"But still," Edward said, feeling overwhelmed, "why me? Why not you?"

Hohenheim chuckled. "I would have passed it all on to you anyway."

Edward huffed.

"Nickolas as a millennia's worth of notes and research in his possession, Edward," Hohenheim said. "Research that might help you find a way home and back to Alphonse and Miss Winry. I was planning on giving you my works as well. I'll leave it for you at Nickolas' London residence. It's where he keeps most of his work as well."

"Yeah, okay," Edward said, nodding. "Lets head back now. It's late. All old geezers like yourself should be in bed sleeping."

Hohenheim smiled and rose from his seat, following his son back to the Flamels' cottage.

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><p>And that's chapter 1! Sorry we didn't get to any of the book stuff (though I never got to the book until chapter 2 in the first fic anyway), but I really wanted to write about Edward's trip to Germany and meeting Hohenheim. I hope that it turned out okay, and I'm sorry if either of them seem OC. It's been a while since I saw either anime, or read the manga. :P I hope you enjoyed this beginning to the sequal regardless and look forward to more! Merry Christmas! :)<p>

ALSO! I've posted a new poll to help me prioritize which fan fics I should write regularly so that I can create a new update schedule for the new year. If you want to see regular updates for this, please go to my profile page and vote!


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